Another Pale Moon
by jenamy
Summary: A look into the life if Lucius Malfoy and the first night he met Severus Snape. Mention slight LM/NB


_Seventeen_. That's how many times my father's cane came into contact with my back tonight. It's for instilling proper _Pureblood_ behavior. Mother never speaks up on my behalf; it's unseemly for a lady to speak out towards her husband. Yet it's for her mistake that I'm receiving the beating in the first place. Only five more to go; I can feel the open sores, I can feel the blood soaking my shirt. What I don't feel is the love and affection I normally see in my mother's eyes. I hear the sharp intake of breath as my father prepares himself for another strike. Number twelve; as soon as the cane touches my skin my mother lets out a small gasp.

"Abraxas, that's enough!"

I could only watch in horror as he stood and stalked over to her, roughly grabbing her by her jaw and shoving her against his bookshelf. I could only witness the sheer terror that flashed so briefly in my mother's eyes as she took in his menacing face.

"Don't you ever speak to me about my son. You're nothing more to me than a woman who gave me a son. You can take his place if you'd like."

I watched in hopelessness as she lowered her gaze to the floor and shook her head gently. I braced myself against the desk as I heard his footsteps returning to just behind me. This one was going to hurt. I stared directly at my mother as he hit me once again. My gaze never leaving her own, she was frozen in an emotion I couldn't identify. Three more and I was through; my lesson learned. I felt the familiar pulling of open wounds sewing themselves together again. He would cut me, burn me, bruise me and beat me, but he would always heal what damage he had done. The one thing I wouldn't allow him to do was break me.

"Go to your rooms, the both of you. Leave me."

There never was an ounce of care or concern in his voice; Mother says the only time he ever used a soft tone with me was the night after my first birthday. She said she heard crying coming from my small chamber but the noise was not coming from me. She witnessed, probably the only tears, my father would ever shed for me. The only time he would ever hug me, kiss me, and probably the only time he ever loved me. I had survived that first year of life; I was going to make it. Now, now I wish I hadn't.

"Lucius, darling, I, I'm sor—"

"Don't speak to me mother. I will never let myself or my wife treat my son the way in which you two treat me. Never."

I did the un-Malfoy thing and ran away from her, towards my rooms. I was glad tomorrow was the first of September. I would be returning to Hogwarts; a Prefect no less. That didn't matter though, I was still a failure. I packed everything, checking my list of required items twice. The house elves were not to pack my belongings, but were to tell my father they had. I changed into my bedclothes and climbed into my bed; unknown to me, dreaming of the night my father finally died.

Jarvis, the elf assigned to me since my birth, woke me on time—9a.m. I never took too much time getting ready, I didn't have to. Everything I was to wear was laid out the night before and everything I was supposed to be has been instilled since I could crawl. I waved Jarvis off and stood in front of my mirror, taking in the reflection staring back at me. I hated the traits that dominated the Malfoy line. My pointy face, my pale hair and complexion; I'm washed out, but apparently I was beautiful. I quickly made my way to the breakfast parlor and greeted my parents with a small nod. I refused to speak to them, and I never did the nights after my beatings. With the exception of last night, it's been four weeks and three days since I last spoke to them.

"You're late."

I took my seat and grabbed only a buttered biscuit. He slammed the paper on the table as his gaze burned into the side of my head.

"Look at me boy!"

I refused, knowing he can't hit me before school—today I was wrong. I was so adamant in ignoring him I failed to realize he had stood and was now at my side. I only knew he was there after I felt a hand collide with my cheek. My mother's scream was drowned with another blow to my head.

"You will respect me Lucius, you will respect me and you will show it to me! You will no longer make a mockery of me; I will not allow it any longer!"

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a glance, or even a sound; I stood my ground. I felt his arm grab my own, I heard the cloth of his robes swishing, he was going to hit me again. This time, however, the sound of flesh hitting flesh was that of my father's fist connecting with my mother's cheek. She had stood in front of me, stood up for me; the only thing I could think of was, why? For years my company was that of the elves if I wanted to play with my toys. If I wanted to go out on my broom, elves again; I never knew what it was like to have my father pat me on the shoulder for a job well done, or the gentle pressing of lips to my forehead for a sign of affection from my mother. I knew none of that—until now.

"What have you done you foolish woman!? Clean yourself up Lucius; I am not finished with you!"

He shoved my mother out of the way and pulled me to my feet. I could feel his hot breath on my face, for the first time I felt fear and showed it. He released me quickly and I fell to the floor.

"Get up, the both of you. Lucius, I, son, you have to understand, I do these things to teach you how to prosper. I do it out of love for my family."

"You do it to save your own arse! You don't give a bloody second to care about anyone but yourself, you selfish bastard!"

Another hand to the face; I didn't care this time. Let them see what goes on behind closed doors at Malfoy Manor—let them.

"I've already spoken to you about talking back to me; don't make me do it again. Now, you'll arrive to the platform, anyone asks of your facial wounds, tell them you fell off your broom. A strong wind picked up and you couldn't control it and you hit a tree."

I narrowed my eyes but nodded. It was useless to do anything else, especially so close to the time of my departure. At quarter to eleven, I was taken to the front parlor and stood in front of the fireplace. I used the floo to and from everywhere, apparently it was dignified when one couldn't apparate. I heard the clock chime; notifying me it was my time to leave. I took the small handful of powder and threw it in the flames and shouted my destination. Stepping out of the other fireplace, I brushed my robes quickly and despite the bruises on my face, I smiled. I was on my way to the only place I didn't have to act as a dignified Malfoy—well on the inside, I didn't have to act accordingly.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering when you'd be arriving! Prefects are to gather first years and help them find carriages on the train. Miss Black will be accompanying you; two Slytherins, you shall be a fine pair."

She stood, head upright, chin parallel to the ground, eyes staring down her nose—she was better than most people here and she knew it. I just thought she was beautiful.

"Hello Lucius. Shall we get star—what happened to your cheek?"

"Broom accident."

I flinched on the inside, I had just used the vile lie my own father made up for his horrendous actions. She didn't believe me; I could see it in her eyes. She pursed her lips and headed towards the train. I could only follow. There was a small boy, long, stringy black hair and clothes that looked far too out of place on him. Then I saw it, through the curtain of hair that hid his face, he too had a bruise on his cheek. I noticed he was in a compartment with a few other boys, they were teasing him, but a small red, haired girl seemed to be defending him.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Malfoy prat! Merlin, what happened to your face? I'd say it's an improvement!"

The small boy flinched and the little girl took his hand, but the other two, the antagonists, would have none of that.

"Oh come off it Evans, Snape can stand on his own, or so at least we think!"

The little Evans girl glared at that Sirius boy.

"Sirius, you'll shut your trap or I'll owl your mother. Sit your arses down, the both of you, that's right Potter, sit down!"

The boy I'll assume as Sirius, his eyes narrowed as he glanced past my right shoulder.

"Oh dearest Cissy, hiding any more marks your charming sister put on you? Mum wouldn't care, she'd yell at you for wasting her precious time. When will the rest of you understand, the family loathes me!? But what would your mother think of her precious little daughter using such language, towards first years no less!"

He had no ounce of sorrow in his voice. He relished the fact his family despised him; how I wish mine would. I took a seat next to a small, plump boy, who grinned up at me as I sat down. My attention, however, remained focused between Narcissa Black and this small, black haired boy. She took a seat between the boy, Sirius, and another young boy, one who had remained silent the entire time. The small little girl had asked the question that started it all—my friendship with a one, Severus Snape.

"What house do you think you'll be in?"

The other black haired boy, Potter, I believe, practically shouted his answer.

"Gryffindor, naturally!"

Evans rolled her eyes, Narcissa smirked and the other two boys just nodded.

"I hope I'm in Gryffindor, I think I'd quit if I was sorted into Slytherin!"

I couldn't help but smirk and puff my chest, just enough for my house emblem to show.

"And what, Black, would be so bad about Slytherin?"

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"For starters Malfoy, you're there; second of all, my entire family's been through there. I hope to not be like them if I can help it."

"Well what about you Sev? What house do you think you'll get into?"

Before he could answer, Narcissa responded for him.

"Slytherin. He'll do our house proud I think too."

Sev, the boy, just stared at Narcissa and briefly spared me a glance before his eyes met the floor once again. Time passed and before I knew it I was seated at the table awaiting the arrival of the first years. My eyes only for the kids we sat with on the train. That Evans girl, she had amazing green eyes; I've never seen eyes so brilliant a green before. The doors opened and in walked the line of petrified and tiny first years. I smirk to myself—I was once so small like that; I was never as carefree though. I was never permitted to be. The list goes on and on till I hear the few names I'm interested in.

"Black, Sirius"

Moments later, the hat shouted Gryffindor. My eyes met Narcissa's and she just smirked while I heard her sister's cackle a few students down. Few names later, the Evans girl was sorted into Gryffindor, as was the skinny boy—Remus Lupin—who barely spoke a word on the train.

"Pettigrew, Peter"

The hat seemed to debate with him for a few moments, only fifteen seconds really, before it shouted Gryffindor. He looked slightly relieved. I would keep an eye on him for my last three years of school; something about him bothered me. He hero-worshiped his friends far too much to be considered normal.

"Potter, James"

Gryffindor; prat got his wish. Then finally, the boy I had been eyeing all evening. That small, bruised, black haired boy, his name was called.

"Snape, Severus."

The hat looked far too big for his head, but it managed and it too debated with him. Right before his house was determined, his cheeks flushed.

"Slytherin!"

I smiled as our table clapped for another housemate and I waved him over to my side. He was to be under my care now; I was his house's Prefect. It was my duty.

"Welcome to Slytherin Severus. You'll do well here, I promise."

He smiled shyly up at Narcissa and I offered him my hand to shake. It wouldn't be till later that night that I would realize what I had seen on the train, that small bruise on his cheek, it was nothing compared to what I would experience later in the evening.

"You can call me Cissy you know, I won't bite."

Her eyes danced with amusement as she smirked up at me. I could only smile, yes smile, in return. She winked, then turned and ordered the first years to follow her, Severus falling behind the rest.

"Scared Snape?"

He looked down but held his shoulders stiffly before shaking his head. He finally looked up and met my eyes, his black eyes bore into me, startling me really.

"How, how did you get those marks on your face?"

"My father."

I heard his sharp intake of breath and I walked off; not sure why I told a mere eleven year old that my father still hits me. I fought the flush that I knew was trying to litter my cheeks, Narcissa stared amused at my behavior; questions dancing through her eyes.

"This is our common room entrance, notice we have no door and the portrait does not reach the floor. The wall is charmed to open up to our house members; it will only open with the correct password."

My thoughts wandered, while my eyes lay settled on Severus Snape. How could such a boy, especially in his state of attire, manage to be placed in such a house as Slytherin? What about him could we not read? Most would assume that you couldn't read a Slytherin like an open book, you can; we wear everything as plain as day for all to see. Others see only what they want to see out of us, they make us into the bullies, the snobs, the bad guys.

"Malfoy?"

I glanced down at a small girl, her eyes shining with nothing but pure anxiety.

"Yes?"

"Do we, are we permitted to maintain friendships with those of other houses?"

I heard the snickers of older students, her cheeks flushed; she'd now be eaten alive in this house. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"You may, though I doubt any other house would want to be. The so called friends you made on the train, those relationships ended the moment that hat called out your house. You'll learn, the lot of you, that some wizards are better than others, that they can do much more behind the scenes rather than flaunt their talents like those brazen Gryffindors. Your intelligence will not be worn on your sleeve like those of Ravenclaw and you certainly will never hold such a mundane label of a Hufflepuff."

Her eyes widened and I gathered the attention of the other first years, except for Snape. His eyes were slits as he listened to my words.

"Surely you may possess traits of those other houses, but you were sorted into Slytherin, use that to your own advantage. You'll learn that in order to survive, as most of you witness with our parents, the life we lead is not an easy one. If you are anything other than Pureblood and have been sorted, do not make that a known fact. You fend for yourself, no matter the consequences. You do what you must to gain what you desire and you bow to no one."

"You're wrong!"

I smirked; I was awaiting his little outburst. I made sure to look down my nose at him, a small sneer showing my apparent distaste for his outburst.

"How?"

"I've heard about this school since I was a child! My bloody mother talked of nothing but it! She told me all about how precious this house was, what it meant to be a Slytherin! I hated every story she ever told me, I hated every lie that escaped her mouth to try to make it better for me. I'm only in this forsaken house because of a name, a bloody name! And you're wrong about friendships in other houses."

I enjoyed getting a reaction out of him, it pleased me.

"You're speaking of that little mudblood? The little muggle girl turned witch? Evans, was it?"

His lips moved and the next thing I knew I was pressed against the wall, my air passage blocked and the entire common room was silent. A mere eleven year old has pinned me to the wall; my feet aren't even on the ground.

"**DROP HIM!**"

No one could miss the tone of voice she used; no one would question her though. I felt myself fall to the ground and I gasped for air. My eyes never leaving his; he stood facing me for a mere few seconds before he turned and stormed off towards the dorms. I too fled to my own dorm. How could I let a mere child get to me like that? How could he understand com—that's it, he knows because he feels it too. That sharp sting of a slap to the face, that knife that cuts through at every remark, and the harsh reality that your parents don't care one ounce of love for you—he knows and he may be the only person to save me.

I turned towards the first year dormitory; I heard voices as I pushed open the door. The shuffling of feet and bodies passing me let me know they understood, well they understood what they wanted to assume, why I was here.

"I may be a mere child to you but I've experienced more than enough to be mentally older than I am physically Malfoy. If you've come to extract revenge, I suggest you leave, I know far more curses than your own father could ever teach you."

The coldness in his voice let me know my assumption was correct.

"Your father hits you too. That's why you gasped at my response after the feast, that's why you feel you can speak to me in such a manner that if you were any other, would result in severe penalties."

He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, his small frame turned to face me; his eyes showing nothing but pure hatred.

"Don't for one second think you relate to me Malfoy, not for one second. Your father hits you out of love; he instills the teachings that were instilled upon him. My father beats me because he despises me for what I am. He beats me because he hates me, he loathes the fact I even exist."

His chest was heaving; I was fond of his reactions to me—far too much.

"I get beat so my mother doesn't have to. That's why my father beats me, that's why my mother lets him. He doesn't do it out of love, but yes, he does do it to instill the Malfoy ways in me. I have to know how to eat, sleep, breathe, talk, stand, sit, write and blink like a Malfoy is supposed to. I cannot count on fifty hands how many scars I should have, how many broken bones I've had, how many times I've been burnt, I can't do it!"

I hadn't realized how loud I had gotten; glad the door was closed. He just sat, dejectedly, on his bed. I merely sat on the bed adjacent to him so I could face him. I felt the hoarseness of my throat and the warmth upon my cheeks; my own chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. My thoughts once more going in every which way; I guess in some twisted way, my father does what he does out of some form of love for me. The same could probably be said for my mother. Then they focused on the boy staring at me once more, despite his beatings, he was still able to play with another human child. He was able to laugh and smile and do everything I was never permitted.

"What's it like having a friend?"

His jaw dropped at my question, but his eyes showed the amusement he felt knowing he had something a Malfoy didn't.

"Don't you have friends?"

"Not one I can talk to freely like you can with Evans. I meant what I said; no one dares associates with Slytherins because of the story behind the founders. We're the evil house, the mental bits of Hogwarts. I don't know what it's like to laugh a genuine laugh at something a friend said out of mere humor. I don't know what it's like to smile a genuine smile because you just want to."

The silence was deafening. Neither of us broke eye-contact, neither moved to speak either. He stood and walked to directly in front of me and held out his hand. I looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow.

"Severus Snape."

I smirked and took his hand and gave it a small shake.

"Lucius Malfoy, pleasure."

That night I smiled and laughed my first genuine of each. That night I made the first real friend I ever had. The only friend I would ever have, as I would later find out in life.


End file.
